


tu me manques

by giraffingallday



Category: Black Mirror (TV), Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (2018)
Genre: AH YES, Fluff, M/M, Soulmates, Whats the tag for remembering you've loved someone a million times already, i literally don't know what to say about this it got way longer than i expected and its so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 12:58:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17601806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffingallday/pseuds/giraffingallday
Summary: Stefan can't stop shaking, like there's too much of him.Maybe that's because part of him is supposed to be left somewhere else.____Stefan remembers fairly quickly this go around.





	tu me manques

**Author's Note:**

> hey i know u all hate me bc im a flake but guess whos here with a new hyperfixation!

Shaking. Stefan was shaking, and he couldn’t seem to get it to stop. He had meds, he had a therapist, he had damn _coping_ mechanisms. But if he saw one more error screen he thought he might shake so bad he’d fall apart.

He was working, reluctantly, at the office. A rainstorm tore through and left his house without power, and with his deadline looming close it wasn’t an option to wait until things got started up again. So he’d been forced to pack up and drag himself through the downpour to the Tuckersoft offices, and work at the computer Thakur was happy to provide.

He tried to clean up in the loo before starting, but he felt like he was soaked well into his bones and it settled a chill that made drying off more of a chore when all he wanted was a hot shower. So, with damp clothes and shaking hands, he sat at the computer and waited for it to boot up. Once it did, however, his day didn’t seem to look up anymore, as the code seemed to slip from his mind in the unfamiliar environment. He couldn’t seem to add a single line without apparently tearing his game to shreds.

And so he shook. Because he was cold, and because he was stressed. His fingers fluttered like butterflies over the keys, and his slow typing somehow managed to echo out at him from all corners of the bustling office. The embarrassment of it only made him shake more and eventually, he just stopped altogether, pushing away from his desk and letting his head fall back in frustration. It had only been a few seconds of staring at the ceiling when his line of sight was cut off by a white-blond head. “Nice hair.”

Stefan jerked his head up; face suddenly too warm with a flush. God, of all the people to catch him slacking off, it _had_ to be The Colin Ritman. If it had been his boss, he would’ve gotten not much more than a slap on the wrist, if that; and if it had been one of the assistants or coders, they would’ve asked him if he needed help with something. But fate had it out for him, because instead his idol looked him over with a disinterested gaze, and made fun of the way his wet bangs sat flat against his forehead.

“I was just-“ He fumbled over his words, but Colin was kind enough to cut him off.

“Easy, I’m not here to scold you.” He paused, squinting at the way Stefan’s hands sat wobbly against his thighs. Too aware of the gaze, Stefan folded his hands into tight fists and begged them to still, “Coding shakes? You’re at it a bit too hard, mate.”

It was an out, and one he was grateful for, so he nodded with an awkward little smile, “Yeah, guess so.”

“Come on then.” And Colin turned on his heel and walked away like he knew Stefan would just follow him. He did.

They walked in silence, out the office doors, and down the stairwell, until they reached the garage. Stefan stayed a few paces behind and tried to force his hands to steady. Once they’d gotten there Colin stopped and turned to face him, it was daunting to be alone with him, he was impossible to read.

“Fag?” It made Stefan freeze mid-step, he couldn’t- how could he- except he wasn’t led down there to get the shit kicked out of him, something made clear by the way Colin held out a roll up for him, “It’ll help with the shaking.”

Stefan laughed with embarrassment and took the last couple steps to reach Colin, took the cigarette even though he didn’t smoke and let Colin light it once it sat between his lips. The _tink-tink-tink_ of rain hitting the car park’s metal doors did nothing to cover his resulting cough; it barked back at him from the concrete walls like an insult, “Sorry, I’ve never done this.”

Colin chuckled, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth, “Then why’d you take it?”

“You said-“ He tried another puff, and coughed it out with the last, “You said it’d help with the shaking. I can’t even type.”

Colin hiked his eyebrows up, took a slow drag off the roll up and let it out before replying, the ten seconds felt like ten hours, “Causes cancer too, 'nasty catch there.”

“If I don’t get something done, I’m gonna die anyway.” It was flatter than he intended and opened his mouth to apologize but Colin laughed at it, a proper laugh. It didn’t have the sound of something that came around often.

“Right on, you can always try again.”

It wasn’t – you can’t just _try_ _again_ if you get cancer, but Stefan wasn’t about to correct the man he looked up to, “Ha, yeah.”

Colin turned to look at him fast enough to give himself whiplash, his eyes bore into Stefan like he was trying to pick him apart, “That mean you remember this time around?”

“Sorry, remember what?”

And like that, Colin’s face fell back into its reserved carelessness, and he nodded to himself with a bit disappointment, “Guess not. If you aren’t gonna smoke that, you wanna stub it out? Takes a bit of doing to get them rolled up right.”

Stefan blinked down at the forgotten cigarette perched loosely between his fingers, he lifted it and took a quick pull, the third time around didn’t burn as bad, and it encouraged him to another, it made his head swim a bit, “My hands stopped shaking.”

“Look at that, don’t say I’ve never taken care of you, yeah?” Colin dropped the butt of his on the ground and pressed down on it with the toe of his shoe. He didn’t leave, just slouched like the air was holding him up and waited for Stefan.

He tried to focus on smoking, not too fast or his brain would turn to mush, but not too slow – Colin was waiting, he didn’t want to be rude – but all he could think about was the word choice _taken care of you_ , messing up the phrase was a simple mistake, but everything Colin had been saying was putting him off. The cherry was burning closer to his fingers so he spoke before he lost his nerve, “What was I meant to remember?”

Colin pulled the roll up from his hand and snuffed it out the same he did his own, “Can’t be too important if you’ve forgotten. C’mon, back up we go.”

And just like he had led him down, Colin turned and walked back upstairs.

He didn’t say anything when they got back upstairs, just gave a two-fingered salute to Stefan and went back to his desk, headphones on before Stefan could say so much as a thank you.

And just like that, he was back at his desk, the ends of his hair starting to curl as they dried, and his hands steadied out. After a few stumbling moments, the sound of people making calls and running from desk to desk faded into white noise and he found his rhythm.

He hadn’t even noticed the time passing before Thakur was patting his shoulder, “It’s home time, Colin’s the only weirdo that stays after hours.”

It left Stefan with a choice, go home, take the hot shower he was itching for, and stew over what Colin had said earlier, or stay.

“I’ve really found my rhythm, do you mind if I hang back for a little bit?” He glanced back at his screen in darting glances. He _had_ gotten into a decent flow, leaving could stunt that.

“Suit yourself, but when Colin leaves, you go too, he's got the only other key.”

Moments later and the lights, set to a timer, clicked off, so the large bullpen was only lit by the white light of his and Colin’s computers. It didn’t seem to bother Colin; he didn’t even look up from his screen, so Stefan went on with his work in the dark. It had the reminiscent feeling of when he had first gotten a computer at home and his dad had tried to set a sort of bedtime so he didn’t stay on it through the night, he’d cover himself and the computer with a blanket in his dark room and pretend it wasn’t taking his all to stay up the next morning.

He worked himself to a good stopping place and saved everything he’d done, but before he shut the computer down he parted a glance to Colin’s desk, he was turned around in his chair, watching Stefan work. His face held a soft expression for only a second before he’d realized he’d been caught, and it warped itself quickly into casual boredom.

“You always look funny when you’re working.” There was that strange wording again -  _always -_  like he’d seen him work before. As though he knew him.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure he knew what he was apologizing for, but Colin didn’t pay it any mind; instead, he stood up and dragged his chair across the way to Stefan’s temporary desk, and plopped down beside him.

“Why’d you stay?”

It took Stefan a bit off guard, there was something knowing about the way Colin spoke, like he always knew the answers, but asked just to keep you on your feet, “I just wanted to finish some stuff up.”

“This late? You missed the last bus.” He nodded towards the clock on the wall before kicking his feet up on the desk and pulling out a roll up, the hands told him it was almost quarter after one. Shit.

Frustrated, Stefan scrubbed a hand over his face, “I didn’t realize.”

“Not to worry, I keep a sleeping bag here, you’re welcome to it.” Colin watched his reaction with a straight face for a minute, confusion, then poorly faked gratitude when he thought about how long the walk home in the rain would be, and finally pleasant surprise when he saw the corners of Colin’s mouth twitch.

“You’re joking?” Stefan felt a grin growing when Colin rolled his eyes with a nod, “You’re a prick.” His eyes were half wild when he said it, a weird familiarity between them.

“So you’re apt to tell me.”

It made Stefan’s smile falter as Colin’s words from earlier pushed themselves to the front of his mind, “Have I told you before?”

Colin gave a noncommittal shrug and sunk down lower in his seat so he could tap the ash off his smoke and into the bin under Stefan’s desk, “No. Not in this lifetime anyway.” He gave a feral sort of grin, like a child finding a loophole in a promise they’d made.

It only egged Stefan on more, “What do you mean by that?” He was leaning forward without realizing it, practically on the edge of his seat for anything he could press out of Colin.

Colin chose instead not to give anything, “You need a ride home, yeah? Let’s go.”

Colin’s car was nice. The seats were smooth and leather, it didn’t feel like something Stefan belonged in at all, all clean and sleek, and the radio had a cassette deck in it, Colin’s dad’s car only had a scratchy radio. It smelled nice too, a bit like weed and tobacco, but in a way that settled him.

He noticed, once Colin had pulled out of the garage and streetlights sent their helpful flick of light with each pass, that his hands were shaking again, no doubt due to the nervous energy racking up in him. Colin was so _quiet_ , he never seemed uncomfortable with the long draws of silence, especially not when low music filled it. “You’re not gonna tell me what you mean by all that weird stuff you were saying, are you?”

Colin’s mouth twitched, holding back a frown this time, “Wouldn’t end well if it did.” It came with such a sense of finality that Stefan decided to forget about it entirely in favor of picking at the beds of his nails. Colin reached over and put his hand on Stefan’s without taking his eyes off the road, “Gotta kick that, nasty habit.” But he didn’t pull his hand back, it just rested, large and warm over Stefan’s cold fingers like he was keeping him there.

The thought sent a shiver down Stefan’s spine, “Sorry.”

“That too.”

He had to resist the urge to apologize again, the tips of his ears grew hot and his hands shook worse from the unsteady feeling of not knowing his footing. Colin must’ve decided to put a stop to that as well because his loose fingers curled into a firm grip over Stefan’s hands, “What’re you shaking so bad for? I’m not a serial killer.”

Stefan bit his tongue around another _sorry_ , “Just do, I guess.”

Colin snorted, like he knew he’d say that, and kept driving quietly; his hand stayed on Stefan’s, a strangely soothing feeling that had his head lolling against the window. He didn’t know how long he fell asleep for, but he woke up to a still car and Colin’s hand, removed from his own now, tapping his cheek, “We’re at mine.” It was whisper soft, trying to keep Stefan from waking up too much, “You never gave me your address, mate.”

Stefan blinked around hazily, another underground car park, he turned to face Colin, and he was wearing that same soft expression he’d caught him with earlier, it made warmth curl in his chest – something familiar, again, like a dream he couldn’t quite grasp.

He sat up more fully, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes, didn’t notice Colin get out until cold damp air hit him when Colin opened the passenger door. They took an elevator up to Colin’s floor, not quite the top but high up enough up to make Stefan’s head swim a little; Colin put a steadying hand on his back before he even started to sway.

He fell asleep still dressed on a long curved couch with a borrowed pillow and a soft throw blanket; the next morning he woke up in a bed. It wasn’t his, the mattress and pillows were too soft, and muted, gray light shone stubborn against his face without curtains to deter it. It was still raining, the downpour hit the window like waves and he guessed that was what woke him up. It took a bit longer to register the person sleeping beside him – Colin – and he burned down to his chest with embarrassment, he had been given a couch with a pillow, curling up in bed wasn’t part of his invitation.

He’d had a bit of a habit of sleepwalking, it was rare but some mornings he’d wake up on the couch downstairs, or at the kitchen table with a full cup of tea, once in the bathtub. He’d never really hated it until this morning. Carefully, he tried to scoot to the edge of the bed without moving too much, and Colin sniffed in his sleep, shifting over.

His hand brushed against Stefan's back and he held his breath tight, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for Colin to steady back into sleep again. Instead, the hand curled into his shirt, before Colin shifted closer and moved it to wrap around his waist, before settling against his stomach under his sweater with something like possession, pulling Stefan back against him.

It was like this that it hit him, and he shook. They’d done this before. He’d felt Colin’s nose against the nape of his neck before, and felt that hand over his skin before. It was like a memory occurring in the now, coexisting with the truth of the present. Stefan’s throat grew thick, sometime, somewhere, he’d been held like this, with these hands and arms, before. The clock on the nightstand blinked 8:03 at him with an impatient red; it was too early for a good cry, especially not in Colin’s bed – that is, The Colin Ritman’s bed – but that didn’t stop tears from pricking at the corners of his eyes.

He laid there for the next five minutes, and at 8:08 Colin started to stir, fingers scratching against Stefan’s stomach absently and face pressing against the space of skin between the collar of his sweater and the start of his hair. Stefan forced his body to go lax, shutting his eyes in hope of pretending to still be asleep.

After a minute Colin woke up more properly and tucked his head back to look at who exactly he’d been snuggled up with. A fond puff of breath was let out through his nose before he pulled away; there was a bit of a shuffle before the sound of a lighter flicked through the quiet of the room, after a few long inhales with releasing exhales, a hand reached over to hold gently onto Stefan’s waist, just long enough for one exhale that sounded like divine praise, before Colin seemed to force himself to pull away, finger’s clinging like they wanted to ignore the command.

Hesitantly Stefan opened his eyes, still laying still and lax, just to make sure he hadn’t fallen back into a dream, he hadn’t. So he shifted, onto his back and looked over at Colin who looked back blankly, “Why’re you crying?” Colin’s voice wasn’t soft, not like the night before, instead he spoke how he always did, flat and unassuming, only a little gravely from sleep.

“M’not.” Was Stefan’s feeble reply, waiting for annoyance or disgust to pop up on Colin’s expression at the way Stefan had welcomed himself into his bed. Hoping that he was as welcome as his strange parallel memories made him feel.

“Right.” Colin held out the roll up as an offering to Stefan, and he took it, coughed around his drag but let the heady nicotine feeling steady his hands again, “Why’d you come in here?”

Stefan turned fire truck red, looking anywhere but Colin’s face, “I, uh, I sleepwalk sometimes. Sorry.” He took another pull from the smoke, felt strangely proud that he didn’t cough that go around, before passing it back to Colin.

“You’re a sleeptalker too. I was still up when you shuffled in here.” And the way Colin tells him these things, like he already knows it all, was so _frustrating_ against the grinding you’ve-been-here-before feeling that Stefan started to get a headache, “Said you missed me.”

“Oh.”

“Do you?” There was wavering hope Colin’s voice, and Stefan squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden rush of tears. He did. He did he did he did. He didn’t know _how_ or in what way, but Hell, if he didn’t miss him so bad.

“I think so, yeah.” It was pathetically garbled, and Colin reached over to knit his fingers in Stefan’s hair.

“It’s alright.” And for a second there were lips against his temple, then Colin shifted over to lay closer to him, roll up placed to balance precariously on his lips, “You don’t have to remember all at once.”

Stefan sniffled, trying to take in a shaky breath but letting it out with an ugly choked up sound, Colin shushed him, gentler than he was around other people. “I _want_ to, there was – _we_ were.” He twisted, overwhelmed as hundreds of moments just like this one fleeted through his memory too quick to really catch, closer to Colin, who just pulled him in.

“None of that; come on.” Colin’s hand moved from his hair to place his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray before turning his attention back to Stefan. His hand moved careful to the back of his neck, just held him there while he wet Colin’s shirt, “A bit overwhelming, yeah? Didn’t take you so long this time.”

A sudden flash, dark and glitchy of Colin in his room, pressing a trophy into his hand and bending over, it made him gasp and his hand, trembling now, flew up to the back of the bleached hair, “I- I- you let me. I’m so sorry.”

“Stefan. Just breathe.” He pulled his hand down, handled him like porcelain, to press his lips against Stefan’s palm, breathed against it in slow even breaths for Stefan to match until he’d settled a bit more. “Tea? I know how you take it.”

He started to pull away, but Stefan caught his shirt, pulled him back down close, there had been so many good ones, one wrong choice, and they went down the bad path. He needed to get the good in before they messed something up, “Wait, can you – will you kiss me?”

Something close to adoration came over Colin’s face and he settled back down, soft like the night before. He brought up a hand to hold Stefan’s cheek, thumb grazing against the plush and pressed a kiss to the heated skin there, then to his nose, and forehead, then the corner of his lips, “Good?” Stefan sent a quick nod, they were so close together it made they foreheads bump a little, and Colin leaned in to kiss him again, a proper kiss. Stefan would’ve been embarrassed by the fresh roll of tears if he wasn’t so _happy_.

They laid like that for twenty minutes, kissing like they didn’t ever need air again when they had this, boxed safely in Colin’s room with rain beating against the windows to muffle out the world. When they had their fill – or as close as you could get when you were never tired of each other – Colin dragged Stefan out to the kitchen, made them both tea, and they sat on the cold tiles drinking next to each other.

“Which was your favorite? That you remember.” Colin prompts him after dragging minutes of comfortable silence; they’re pressed close to each other, side by side, and Colin had hooked his ankle under Stefan’s so they were closer still.

It takes a minute to flip through the foggy memories, “They aren’t really... solid, yet. But I remember, like, feelings? I remember I’ve loved you, a lot.”

Colin nods, the corners of his mouth turn up despite trying to remain a passive listener, “I have a tendency to push you in that direction. Not much fun loving you on my own.”

It pulls up guilt, and Stefan leans his head against Colin’s shoulder in a silent apology for something out of his control, “I remember you made me dance with you.” Colin chuckles at that, nodding against Stefan’s hair, “I wasn’t any good.”

“If memory serves, I rewarded you well enough for your efforts.” He grins devilishly at Stefan’s remembering shiver – hands and mouths, the wet push and pull.

Stefan sets his mug on the ground next to him when his hands started to shake, a mix of bashful desire starting the little tremors in his body, Colin mirrors him and pulls the hands over to his lap so he can hold them down, he isn’t a fiddler, he doesn’t seem to have any of the nervous energy Stefan’s trying to constantly to shake out of his body; ying and yang and all that he supposed.

“I want to love you this go too. Like, I _do_ love you, but it feels like a memory - or a dream. I want to love you outside of my head too.” Stefan’s words stumbled over one another, more than a bit embarrassed, but Colin only smiled at him, turning to press the grin into his hair.

“You will.” He took a deep breath like he was trying to fill his lungs with Stefan before he pulled away entirely, collected their mugs and dumped the cooling tea down the drain, “It’s almost ten, we oughta get to work, yeah?”

They took too long to get dressed, it was Colin’s fault. He lent Stefan a sweater; it was worn out yellow and soft and smelled like Colin – like weed and tobacco and plain soap - and sat too big over his slight frame, the collar hanging low off his collarbones. “I’ve always liked this one on you.” Colin had murmured, pulling Stefan close enough to allow him to kiss across said collarbones. The distraction, while poorly timed, was welcome, and they found themselves falling back onto Colin’s bed, hungry for all the missed time. Under Colin’s weight, Stefan didn’t shake.

They finally left, ruffled versions of themselves, at nearly half-past eleven, Colin was more affectionate than Stefan had anticipated. Not in the typical ways, he didn’t whisper sweet nothings or crowd himself over Stefan every moment they were together. It was a Colin way of closeness; some part of him was always touching Stefan, fingers looped loosely around his wrist, or ghosting over the back of his neck. At the office, he’d drop a cereal bar on Stefan’s desk without a word, and check back later to make sure he ate it, or tell him they were going to take a break without asking if he wanted to first.

After the storm passed Stefan couldn’t find a reason that stopped him from working at home again, so he’d busy himself with the code until the sun went down, and then for a few hours more before his door would creak open; Colin letting himself in with a bag of whatever food he picked up – he wasn’t much of chef – and they’d break long enough for a meal and a cuddle, then he’d leave. Most days, Stefan didn’t notice his presence until smoke hit his nose, and some days he hopped up at the sound of the front door opening because he had a deep bedded longing that didn’t let him get anything done.

Very rarely, Colin would come up behind him, and kiss his neck, and say, “You’re coming back to mine.” And Stefan was never one to deny him. So they’d go back to the high up apartment, and kiss languidly in the privacy of being alone. Eventually, Colin would force him to lie down and sleep a full night for once. It was a bit of a tension between them at first, the decision making, but Colin remembered the paths, he knew the right choices, and at the end of the day, Stefan would rather Colin choose than some mysterious third party.

It was one of those rare nights at Colin’s house that he was met with a decision of his own to make. It started simple enough, “I like having you here.” Mumbled gently into his ear, hands hitching up the back of his shirt to dance over his skin in the way that always made him melt.

“I like being here.” Had come out half slurred, he was buzzing off weed and sunken so heavy on top of Colin he may as well have become part of him. He had worn that borrowed yellow sweater over so it would smell like Colin again when he went home the next day.

“So move in.” Stefan would never get used to the way Colin talked, everything like he was reading for the class, you had to train your ears for the emotions.

“Move in?” He tried to imagine the reaction he’d have gotten from telling a younger version of himself where he’d end up, it was half funny and he found himself snorting a little.

“You don’t want to.” Practiced listening showed him disappointment, but he was quick to smooth out the crease in Colin’s forehead.

“I do! I just, I can’t believe you want me to.” Stefan had a goofy little smile on his face, because yes, he wanted to, and Colin wanted him to just as much.

“Good then. We’ll set you up in the guest room, so Peter thinks things are good and pure here.” It prompted a little giggle out of Stefan that Colin kissed away.

“I love you. Outside my head.” He murmured against Colin’s lips, and Colin responded my pulling him impossibly closer.

“Well guess what?” Colin’s mouth stretched open with a smile at the way Stefan picked up his eyebrows up in waiting, “I love you right back.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyway will poulter is whole meal whos w me
> 
> i really appreciate feedback so pls leave some if u liked this!


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